Brain vomit.
Tonight, I had a major realization: having a guy in my life (in an intimate sort of way) is what inspires me to want to write. For years now, I’ve continually complained about having lost the inspiration to write and being stuck in a constipated rut they call ‘writer’s block’. But that’s not entirely true. For a big part of my high school life, it was being with B that instigated most of my Xanga entries. Then there was Illustrator Boy and a few others scattered along the way. What that says about me and my priorities in life, I don’t know, but at least I’m writing again, right?
A few hours ago, on the bus ride home from BRH’s place, my mind and right hand were both so restless to a point where I had to pull out an old receipt to ease my brain vomit or else I’d feel like I’d explode. Earlier when we were lying in bed, he said the reason he kept asking if I was okay was because I kept making a serious face and that I seemed preoccupied. At the time, I told him I wasn’t thinking about much, and I really wasn’t. I was revelling in the fact that lying in bed with him feels nice and right, and the only thought running through my mind was that I don’t want to get up or let go of holding him or go home. But the more I thought about it (obviously after leaving his place [read: bed]), I realized maybe he was right afterall. As I started writing about how I feel like wanting to write without a clue what to write about, only knowing that my mind felt heavy with thoughts I cannot see or comprehend, the words just came.
I think the reason why I tend to write more when I’m involved with a guy is because our relationship and interactions spur my thought process, sending it on overdrive: about how I feel, about how I think they feel, about a possible future and/or if I even want there to be one, about what every little detail of every word said and action done means. Not necessarily the healthiest thing for my head though, as it tends to get a little overanalytical where I’ll invariably end up prescribing significance to things that don’t hold (as) much emotional value in reality versus in my mind.
I guess I could always talk to them directly about it, but a) talks usually end up making or breaking an already comfortable situation, b) not all guys like to talk, and even if I find one who does c) I’m not very good at putting my thoughts into spoken words and tend to freeze up in these sorts of conversations (which contradicts my constant needing-to-know, how frustrating). Therefore, most of the time I just resort to replaying cutscenes in my head and studying them frame by frame like a film major. I should probably just learn to let things flow as they naturally will.
To this end, I have no idea what my point is. I don’t even remember what I was trying to write about in the first place. But I’m writing. Release is good. It’s a (re)start.
Filed under: Random, Reflections, Relationships | Leave a Comment
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